


Kinds

by rm (arem)



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arem/pseuds/rm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny little post-ep thing on 4.07 because I can’t stop thinking about <a href="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdx7gkS0TI1qbgdqpo1_r1_500.jpg">the thing with the paint</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinds

It’s stupid, Blaine thinks, what makes him stay in the end. 

It’s not Sam’s kindness, or the fact that he finally listened to him (because listening is really not Sam’s best skill and he largely only gets the parts of Blaine he wants to get, but that doesn’t make him less of a good person).

It’s also not the fact that Finn doesn’t seem to be holding the mess with Kurt against him, which is just weird, really, because for Blaine, that’s the only thing he is right now and for Finn… it’s not, _not_ there, but it doesn’t hook in to everything else. Blaine is always, it seems, a boy in pieces.

And it’s not just that the Warblers are creepy. And they are really, _really_ creepy and increasingly feel like a bullet Blaine has dodged. 

Sometimes, he thinks he took a pill when he first arrived at Dalton to go to sleep nice and safe and warm and wake up in the sort of chains that seem pleasant but really, really aren’t (Blaine watches a lot of pretty fucked up porn and isn’t afraid to admit it). But it just, somehow, didn’t work. 

Blaine knows if he goes back, something terrible will happen to him, which isn’t always an idea he minds. It scares him to death.

So it’s Brittany, actually. With the paint. And her warm, wet fingers across his face and down his neck, and yeah, there are associations he could be making, that he’s definitely making actually, but that’s in the background because of the heel of her hand at his heart, at his throat, and the way she kisses his cheek. There’s nothing she wants from him, and weirdly, that doesn’t make him feel like he’s invisible for a change.

He thinks about jerking off to it. That night, and the next, and a good six or seven after that, he’s hot and heavy in his hand, and then he just doesn’t, because every time he thinks of that moment, her dry lips on his cheek and the paint on her nose, he feels, somehow, like he’s already done it. 

It’s good, in a way, because it means his brain doesn’t get all tangled up with the memory of Kurt, but it’s also disappointing, because he’d kind of like to get off. Although mainly he’d just like to be held, small, and skin to skin.

He knows there will be all sorts of trouble when he says to Brittany, _I stayed for you_. But hers is the first kind touch he’s felt in weeks, and, if he crosses out that entire disastrous weekend in New York, months.

So he’ll tell her, because it’s what he can give her, and he’s hopeful that it might even be enough.


End file.
